Chapter 2: My Online Boyfriend Has Secrets
The next morning, my phone chimed. It was a message from “NightWolf42”: [Hey babe, you up? Don’t forget breakfast.] I couldn’t help but smile.
NightWolf42—my online boyfriend. A total goofball. He was the kind of guy who’d send you memes at 2 a.m. and always knew when you were having a bad day. Seriously, how did he do that?
Back when he posted in the freshman group: [Sending my little brother off to school.] [Quick question: how big are the dorm beds? I’m 6’3”—will I fit?] [Just got back from Europe, not sure about things. Can I use euros?] His messages were pure chaos, and honestly, I was here for it.
My best friend laughed for ages before pushing him my way, telling me to keep him around as our group mascot. “You need a distraction,” she said, winking.
I added him: [Dude, you’re too much. Love it.] It felt good to just be silly with someone for once.
After a while, I asked him, [What do you do?]
He replied, [Still studying at Harvard.] I nearly snorted coffee out my nose.
I cracked up. I was running a package pickup station at Maple Heights Community College. The closest I’d ever been to Harvard was binge-watching “The Social Network.”
He asked, [Where do you go to school?]
Me: [Yale University.]
He seemed surprised: [My cousin goes there too.]
Well, who’s to say Maple Heights isn’t Yale University? Online, we’re all Ivy League, right?
I encouraged him: [Since you go to the same school as me, your cousin doesn’t have to feel left out.]
I opened his message—a surprise abs pic popped up, followed by a genuinely handsome face. I admired it for a second, saved it out of habit, and replied: [Not bad. At least you remember your boyfriend duties.]
NightWolf42 sent a blushing emoji. This guy was really something else.
I rolled my eyes. This guy was really committed to the act—even using random hot-guy photos to catfish me. Who knows where he found such a good-looking dude? Maybe he was just a pro at Google Images.
He was typing, deleting, typing again. Finally: [I’m ready. See you tonight.]
He really had guts—wasn’t he afraid of being exposed when we met in person? For all he knew, I could’ve been a grandma with a cat filter.
I sent him my cart location and sighed. If he actually showed up, I was ready for anything.
Let the goddess of fried food decide his fate tonight… I flexed my arms, half-joking, half-serious.
Pushing my little food cart, I was ready to throw down with my tiny fists if I had to. I even practiced my best intimidating glare in the rearview mirror.













